


Mirror Image

by ladyofbrileith



Category: Alias, Heroes - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2012-06-05
Packaged: 2017-11-06 21:37:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofbrileith/pseuds/ladyofbrileith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After escaping from the grave, Adam teams up with Sark to devise a new plan, but the main thing he's decided he wants is the boy who looks just like him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirror Image

**Author's Note:**

> This was started as a challenge and a sort of, "ooh, that would be pretty" but then it developed into something more along the way, though it's pretty much still PWP--there's a feeling it might go elsewhere, but I've no idea where.

_Your hands are on me // I'm pressing hard against your jeans  
Your tongue in my mouth // Trying to keep the words from coming out  
You didn't care to know // Who else may have been you before_ Bright Eyes - Lover I Don't Have to Love   
  
It had been a game of cat and mouse from the start, and Adam got the distinct impression the boy was not used to the mouse role. One dark look, one slap of his hand away, and Adam had learned to dial it back, to press forward a more subtle seduction. That he wouldn't have him never occurred to him, that sort of failure unthinkable to imagine. They were alike in that, as well, setting their sights on what they wanted and letting nothing get in their way until they had achieved it. Somewhere along the way, Sark realized he was what Adam wanted, and the knowledge lit his eyes with a sort of cold amusement that Adam found more erotic than he would have imagined possible. When the boy shifted from resistance to _using_ that knowledge, Adam's breath caught at the master move of manipulation. The dance he wound around others, turned on him, was nearly as sweet as the final surrender would be, because both of them knew that you could only reel something along in this game for so long before you had to yield, give up something of yourself, or you lost the power and effectiveness of the ploy.  
  
* * *  
  
It wasn't as if Sark hadn't had men look at him like that before. While the prison cell in Italy was possibly the most recent blatant attempt, it had happened most of his life. He'd even given in a time or two in school, both out of curiosity and to curry favor, or gain the upper hand. Curiosity satisfied, he thought, by boyish fumbling and rarely any upper hand to be gained in later life that couldn't as easily be gained at the point of a gun with a cold gaze, he found the look in Adam's eyes disquieting. But then, currying favor with the immortal that bore his face had a great deal to be said for it, and attraction was always such a pleasant weapon to wield. He didn't flinch from the looks, meeting them with a half smile that suggested that if Adam played his cards right, perhaps Sark would yield. He could be persuaded, the looks said, with the duck of a head and the curve of a smirk, and the way he'd let his hand linger when leaning over Adam to show him some intel he'd gathered and brought to him. He saw the knowing looks he got back, realized you could only play a player so far, but he had what Adam wanted, and he refused to believe he couldn't win the game.  
  
* * *  
  
It was a night like any other night, wine by the fire as they debated tactics. Sark was as animated as Adam had ever seen him, insisting that the security at the embassy would prevent Adam's plan from working, and giving him frustrated looks when Adam attempted to insist he'd grasped the mechanics of the new system. The normally cool exterior was cracked, just a bit, snark turning to far more cutting remarks that finally lashed out in a passionate outburst Adam had never heard the boy speak with. He blinked and stared at him, and found Sark staring back as if a bit shocked at himself for the uncharacteristic intemperate outburst. They both froze there as lines really seemed to blur, and for a moment the boy before him reminded Adam far more of the boy he once had been than the man he had become, and that was disconcerting enough to make him set the wine glass down. He moved and he could have sworn Sark moved at the same time as they met. He slid his fingers into hair so much like his own as he covered the boy's lips with his own, teeth catching at his lower lip, and finding it different on this side of the familiar movement, before he pressed closer and into the kiss.  
  
* * *  
  
For all that he had found himself leaning in, catching the intent in Adam's eyes and figuring it was time to at least give a little of what he'd been dancing around promising, Sark was still slightly stunned by both the kiss itself and the intensity within it. Whether because they matched so perfectly, or because of Adam's experience or his sheer desire that shivered in the air between them, he felt his breath catch. What he'd intended to be not much more than a technical exercise had a heat to it that he couldn't deny. His fingers reached to brush along Adam's neck, curling behind, letting his fingertips explore the edge of his hair, the way it teased against his neck with that touch of a curl his own held. His teeth nipped back almost experimentally, catching Adam's lower lip and sliding his tongue lightly over it, tasting him. Half of him expected it to be the same, a mirroring in more than just form, but he found that Adam had a taste all his own, under the wine that was familiar and echoing back a thousand different kisses. He wasn't a fanciful sort prone to thinking that he could taste something so ephemeral as experience or centuries of life, but the curl of Adam's tongue against his own set off a slight shiver of a deeper knowing that perhaps there was something to be learned at the hands of a man as old as his mirror.  
  
* * *  
  
That Sark responded at all came as a surprise, but one Adam fully intended on exploiting. Control was something neither of them yielded in a battle, he knew, but he could willingly surrender it, and for a moment, he did, lips parting more to encourage the boy's hesitant exploration. He held his hands in check, one stroking through his hair, the other sliding just to cradle his jaw. Nothing threatening, nothing pressing, except the way their tongues met, dueled, teased around each other. He pushed back the surge of triumph that almost made him laugh, turning that soft sound into a sigh instead. A moment later, a breath between them, and he took control back, fingers tightening on the boy's skin with an almost giddy realization that he could mark him, leave tracks across that skin so like his own, see what he looked like with passion spent, skin reddened and temporarily scarred by teeth and nails. An answering sigh slid between the lips pressed against his, and he felt the tremble that eased through the boy, tasting his surrender and his curiosity like he had so many before him.   
  
* * *  
  
It was completely different than anything he'd experienced at school, with none of the inexperienced fumblings of schoolboys without access to girls, looking for a way to get off that wasn't just their own hands. Adam's hands were light on him, but sure, teasing in and out of his hair in a way that made Sark want to whimper if it wouldn't be too much of a surrender. To give in would be to lose the upper hand, his mind whispered, though an answering voice insisted that giving Adam what he wanted could actually pull him closer. The immortal, he was learning, was fiercely loyal to those he cared for, though as unforgiving of betrayal as anyone Sark had ever met. But that loyalty, that protection...He was rationalizing the heat that was crawling under his skin, he knew. Giving reasons for the fact that little tingles of pleasure were sliding along his nerves and centering in his groin as his traitorous body pressed closer to Adam. His fingers traced the other's neck, sliding under the collar of his shirt, slipping around to pause against the top button as he finally let the soft, pleased sound escape into the space between their lips as they parted.  
  
* * *  
  
Adam found it almost disorienting to stare into eyes so very like his own for a moment, then an almost delirious delight replaced the confusion, noting the widening of Sark's pupils, the flare of heat in his eyes that indicated arousal. Not so ambivalent as he liked to pretend, then, Adam noted, a smirk curving his lips, relishing that further crack in the boy's icy veneer. He wanted to muss him further, watch him come undone, all heat and fire instead of a cold veneer that kept everyone at bay. The fingers at his button hesitated, and he fancied he could feel a slight tremble in them. There was a war in the boy and for a moment, Adam would have given anything for Parkman's gift, to hear those racing thoughts, to know what went on behind those eyes. He was too young to be so self-contained, too young to have such a mastery of himself. Adam wanted nothing so much as to take it away. Letting Sark's fingers rest where they would, he slid his own to the boy's shirt, mirroring for a moment, fingers over the v of his collar, looking back at him, and thinking for a moment of how they could be brushing up against a glass, each reflecting back at the other. Then he undid the button and watched Sark's eyes widen further, the war become more apparent. Desire was flickering back out, away behind calculation, and Adam simply couldn't have that. He leaned in again and captured Sark's lips in a heated kiss that brooked no argument.   
  
* * *  
  
The situation was rapidly spinning out of his control, Sark thought, as Adam undid a second button, his fingers brushing over skin. He should pull away now, if he was going to, protest, put distance between them, leave. Or you could just give in, that annoying voice that did nothing but get him into trouble said. It was the voice that made him keep talking even as his shoulder was dislocated, even as he could taste the blood filling his mouth from his broken nose. The voice that entered Irina's launch codes with very little care, whatever he told Michael after. And, god, that was not a thought he needed to have at the moment, because he found his fingers curling in Adam's shirt tight enough that the first button popped off from the force of it. But for a second he could feel the violence and fury behind each movement and taste the blood, and with a moan, he kissed Adam back almost hungrily, his second hand coming to undo the buttons of Adam's shirt with careful, but quick, precision. He wouldn't let his mind linger on the thoughts, but his breath was uneven as his body transmuted one thing into another, memory of then layering over the present--which was nothing like it at all except in the way he felt the tension coiling in his stomach, and that was another thought he really did not want to look at too closely. Finishing with Adam's buttons, he tugged the immortal's shirt off of him with a sound that was almost a growl.  
  
* * *  
  
Adam had no idea what caused the aggressive shift, but he wasn't going to question it, undoing Sark's shirt with expert fingers. His traced his hands back up over his chest, easing the shirt back off the boy's shoulders more slowly than his own had slid off. Their tongues met and tangled with a growing urgency. Sark dropped his hands from Adam, and Adam pushed the shirt off of him, tossing it aside before ghosting his fingertips back over that perfect, pale skin. Retaking control, he shifted them, pressing Sark back on the sofa with a gentle force that still left room for him to protest. The protest, however, did not come until Adam broke the kiss. With a slight smirk at that little sound, Adam ducked his head, lips teasing along Sark's jawline, then nipping down his neck. The skin was reddened near the back, a sign of some location he'd been at on assignment, a touch of a burn which was something Adam barely remembered. His lips traveled lower, finding a pale scar on one shoulder that he eased his tongue over lightly before glancing up to find those eyes on him. Did he look at people like that? Was that intense, dark hunger something his lovers caught glimpses of in his eyes?   
  
"Bullet in Nigeria," Sark said quietly, and Adam's eye flickered down to the scar again before brushing another gentle kiss over it, his fingers tracing it.  
  
* * *  
  
Sark slid his fingers up into Adam's hair, arching for his kisses. He could still turn back, but he was committed now and that faint, questioning look, the way Adam's fingers teased over the scar like it was something precious made his eyes flutter shut for a moment before he glanced at the same spot on Adam's shoulder, finding it perfect, unmarred. Adam's lips drifted lower, brushing over his ribs, and Sark remembered the blade that had sliced there, nearly too close. The scar was near invisible now, years old, but the tip of Adam's tongue traced its length, and every memory of the pain trickled up his skin before the pleasure that followed and made him gasp.  
  
"Knife fight. Cairo," he murmured, letting his head fall back on the arm of the sofa, neck arching, eyes falling closed. His fingers slowly traced up and down Adam's neck, teasing at the curl of his hair against his nape. His breath came rapidly, almost burning a bit as he pulled it in, and when Adam's lips teased over his stomach, his fingers teasing at Sark's hip, Sark couldn't help that his hips arched in response to the dull ache that was settling in his core.  
  
* * *  
  
This was better. This was what he'd wanted. This submission, this rough need in the puppy's voice; this curling of his fingers against Adam's skin, with a light scrape of nails. Adam brushed along his waistband, teasing for a moment only before he undid Sark's slacks, easing them open. He glanced back up at him, drinking in the pleasure on his features, the line of his neck.   
  
"Lift your hips," he said quietly, a thrill of pleasure tingling through him as Sark obeyed, hips lifting off of the sofa. His eyes flew open as Adam eased both his pants and underwear down, head lifting to stare at the older man. Adam saw him swallow, then let his eyes drop to his task, divesting the boy of the rest of his clothes before slowly running his gaze back up the length of his body. It was a different angle, but still so similar to his own that he found himself shifting his perspective, back to hunting for differences. Sark was a bit leaner, his body looking more like that of a swimmer's than a fighter's, though Adam had sparred with him and found him well-enough trained. His fingers slowly traced up Sark's leg, finding the jagged scar on his thigh and the smaller one near it. He traced them first with his fingers, then shifted to give them the same treatment he had the others, his tongue teasing lightly over skin. All too aware of the presence of Sark's shaft, he nonetheless let his fingers just drift to his hip to settle. There was movement above, and he glanced up, to find Sark's head had fallen back again.  
  
"And these?" he asked, the words muffled against skin before he kissed it again.  
  
* * *  
  
A shudder seemed to rise up from somewhere deep inside of him and tremble outward, and the dull ache in his groin became a pressure he hadn't expected, not from this supposedly academic exercise. That excuse was rapidly becoming--no had rapidly become--a lie, though, and even he had to let it go.  
  
"The larger is from an ice pick in Siberia," he gasped out, hips arching, the teasing warmth of Adam's lips, his hand, far too close, and where he'd been willing to allow him to explore before, now he found himself biting back the demand that the older man stop teasing and touch him already. Heat was sliding under his skin, flushing it, and he bit down on his lower lip desperate to stop the words, the soft pleas from escaping. He found other words, different ones, explaining, "She apparently couldn't reach her gun and improvised..." He shuddered a little. "The other was courtesy of her fiancé. He reached his gun just fine..."  
  
He felt as much as heard Adam's chuckle, then the kiss again that brought to mind the cold, the sharp pain, his own gunfire and the cracking of the ice, the momentary flutter of fear for Irina's reaction, pushed back by pain. Adam's teeth scraped his skin, then, and he felt a fierce moment of suction, like poison being drawn from a wound, and the fingers that had been tracing over Adam's neck wound into his hair and tugged him upward, hard.  
  
* * *  
  
Adam followed the tug willingly enough, stretching himself out over Sark before the boy's mouth claimed his again, teeth catching at Adam's lip, biting down hard enough that he tasted his own blood for a moment before it healed. Adam moaned, then smirked a bit as he brought his hips down in contact with Sark's and felt the boy jerk, then rock up into him. He could feel the press of his erection against the jeans Adam still wore, the hard insistence of it rocking up into him, seeking friction and Adam's own. Moving slowly, Adam kicked off his shoes and socks, letting each movement make him squirm against Sark a bit more insistently. A wicked smirk curved his lips when the boy whimpered, and he kissed him harder, swallowing those sweet sounds. The wine still lingered on his tongue, and he pulled back a bit, eyes searching Sark's identical ones. He eased back again, kneeling to straddle Sark's hips as he slowly undid his jeans. He had to stand to ease out of them and kick them aside, and he watched as the boy's eyes followed his movement, smirking more as they wandered over his skin, performing their own exploration.   
  
"Do I meet with your approval?" he asked with a bit of a grin as he shifted to place one knee on the sofa, then the other, hovering over Sark.  
  
* * *  
  
Sark narrowed his eyes, then smirked, just slightly. "If I say yes, I just sound horribly vain and this gets even more odd..." He was rewarded with another chuckle as Adam lowered his head and kissed him again. It was almost gentle, after the tracing of wounds, the memory of blood, the snarl of Vaughn's voice against the purr of his own. He didn't know what to do with that gentleness, didn't know where to put it in the whirling remembrance of violence and pain. A soft whimper caught in his throat, confusion and lust both mingling as Adam's lips explored his, his tongue lightly tracing over Sark's lower lip, then teasing against his. With a soft growl, Sark deepened the kiss, his hand sliding up into Adam's hair and tangling there with a vicious tug, trying to bring it back to the level it was at before, the place where he could ease into the violence and passion and not have to think that this had any undertones to it beyond that.   
  
"Patience, puppy," Adam murmured softly against his lips, and the wretched pet name made Sark growl again. Adam just laughed and kissed him again, fingers slowly sliding over his neck and down across his chest.   
  
Impatient and more than a touch annoyed at his own need, Sark reached to run a hand up Adam's thigh and, with a boldness he was not altogether sure of, wrapped his fingers around Adam's cock.  
  
* * *  
  
The touch was unexpected enough to make Adam gasp. The sound slid into a moan as Sark ran his fingers up Adam's length. It wasn't the same desperate need for touch that had driven him when he first escaped the Company, but the fire that raced behind the boy's touch was close to it. He felt himself harden even more, desire becoming a physical ache, and whether it was the mirror image he was staring into, or the feel of a conquest as the boy surrendered, or something purely more visceral at this point, he didn't care. Each stroke of Sark's hand was more sure, more confident, and that Adam was getting him to explore at all felt like the greatest triumph. He let the kiss grow passionate again, tongue tangling with Sark's instead of teasing, delving deep into his mouth as his hips arched into Sark's hand.  
  
The palm of his hand ghosted over Sark's chest, slowly sliding down, tracing the line of his abdomen with a tickling touch that drew a half laugh from the boy beneath him. He smirked a bit, lips pulling free to nibble along Sark's jaw, as he very lightly mirrored his touch, his fingers wrapping themselves around Sark's shaft and giving an experimental stroke up before teasing around the rim of his head.  
  
* * *  
  
Adam's cock was a heavy, warm weight in his hand, shockingly familiar if only for the angle. His palm pressed against its side, his fingers curling over the top as his thumb stroked the underside. He touched him how he touched himself, listening for responses, and when he heard Adam's gasp and felt him moan against his neck, a muffled, choked sound, he smirked and repeated the movement, fingers hitting the same spot again. He almost laughed at the way Adam squirmed, arching more insistently into his hand, but then Adam's hand was around him, teasing over him and for a moment Sark felt the world seem to tilt, a wave of pleasure shooting up along his nerves from the contact. He was pulsing with need, breath coming far more quickly than he would have liked. He'd meant to stay in control, but he was fairly sure he lost it when Adam's mouth had found the scars on his thigh. His hips arched up sharply, the tops of his thighs colliding with the backs of Adam's where the immortal still straddled him. Straining, Sark rocked a little, his fingers tightening around Adam even as his whole body seemed to ache for more contact. Heat pooled where their skin touched, and he felt it grow slick as beads of sweat escaped. When his hips arched again, his thighs slid along Adam's and his free hand moved to grasp tight at Adam's hip, as if to keep him from sliding away. Each stroke of Adam's hand made him moan now, to the point that he barely recognized the sounds coming out of his own throat. He felt the immortal's breath, hot against his neck, an identical voice making identical sounds until Sark was unsure which sounds were his, and which were Adam's.  
  
* * *  
  
The insistent lift of Sark's hips made Adam press back down against him feeling the sweet slide of their bodies as they moved, hips rocking into the other's hand. They could ride it all the way to this, he knew, but he wanted more than to come, spilling over the boy's chest in an awkward mess that left them both reaching for tissues. He wanted to bury himself inside him, feel him around him, watch his face as he took Adam in and see the look in his eyes when he came. His teeth caught the skin over Sark's pulse and he bit down hard, rewarded by the boy's cry, a sharp jerk of his cock, and a red mark that blossomed across pale skin.   
  
"Fuck, yes, please..." Sark's voice was barely more than a whisper, laced with a longing Adam had never thought to hear there.  
  
"Please what?" Adam murmured.  
  
"I don't know." It was a frustrated growl. "More."  
  
Adam smirked against his skin and bit again, tasting blood as Sark arched nearly off the couch pressing into Adam hard enough it was difficult to keep his grip on his cock. He felt the boy's nails pierce the skin of his hip, digging in sharp and deep, and a soft cry broke from his lips, a shudder running up his body. He forced himself to pull away, sliding his fingers from around Sark, and pulling his wrist until the boy was forced to let him go as well.  
  
"Wait here," he ordered softly.  
  
* * *  
  
The loss of Adam's hand, followed by his weight, drew a protest from Sark's lips, but the immortal was moving swiftly toward the bedroom. Part of Sark wondered if he should follow, trying to find a way to steady his knees to rise, but before he could make up his mind, Adam was back. There was a predatory look in his eyes that left Sark feeling a slight chill he was sure his victims felt before he blew them away, and the nervousness came back full force. Then Adam smiled, and there was something reassuring in the familiar expression. His eyes flicked to the bottle the immortal was holding, and he felt his stomach flutter a bit. Swallowing, he glanced up and met his own eyes as Adam slid over him again. When their lips met, the kiss was as passionate as it had been, as if Adam's brief absence had only made him want Sark more, and Sark felt himself respond, hips arching up once more for that sweet friction. Adam stretched out over him this time, their bodies touching down their whole length, and Sark shifted a bit to accommodate him, one leg slipping off the couch to brace on the floor. He felt the hardwood under the sole of his foot, smooth and cool in contrast to the heat that seemed to be pouring off of him in waves. Adam's body was touching his everywhere, and when he pushed his hips up this time, foot arching against the wood, using the strength of his leg to lift him, his cock slid along Adam's in a way that made Sark let his head fall back, pulling away from the kiss, a moan tearing free from his throat.   
  
He heard the bottle open as Adam's lips ghosted over his throat, teeth closing where neck and shoulder joined for a minute. Fingers, cool, almost cold in contrast to the heat, stroked over him, then behind his balls, easing back toward his entrance. Sark whimpered as Adam's finger teased over him, then slid slowly inside. It had been a while since he'd had a lover with a penchant for toys, but his body remembered, muscles relaxing and feeling Adam's finger ease deeper into him.  
  
* * *  
  
If Adam was surprised, he didn't let it show, just moaning against Sark's ear as he felt his inner walls expand. He pressed deeper until he could tease over his prostate, and grinned at the moan that elicited from the boy. He teased in and out of him a few more times before adding a second finger. Sark's hips arched, taking that as well, and Adam nearly purred. His tongue traced back down the length of the boy's throat, tracing the darkening mark he had left, then finding the second at the base of his neck and biting down again as he stretched him a bit more. Small groans escaped Sark's lips with each thrust of Adam's fingers, and his erection twitched against Adam's hip, as his hips worked to take Adam's fingers deeper and find that friction at the same time. Adam's hips moved then, keeping time with his fingers, thrusting lightly against Sark's thigh and aching with each pass to be inside of him.   
  
He felt Sark's head turn, and moaned when the boy's teeth found the rim of his ear and nipped sharply. Palms slid up his back, and then those lovely nails dug in again, raking downward and Adam felt the cry leave his throat only after he heard it echo in the room.  
  
"Will you fucking get on with it?" Sark's voice was somewhere between panting and growling in Adam's ear, like roughened, raw silk, as he dug his nails in more deeply.  
  
"Say it." Adam ordered, pulling back to look at him, a smirk curving his lips. Impatience and anger both seemed to flash in Sark's eyes, lips pressing together in a stubborn line. "Say it," Adam said again, this time with more of a croon in his voice.  
  
"You are so fucking predictable sometimes," Sark said, eyes narrowing, but his hips shimmied against Adam's with careful precision and his fingers wound in Adam's hair as he tugged him back down for a kiss. It was soft and sweet and pliant and surrendering and everything Adam knew well the boy under him was not, but it was a breathtaking gesture, that grew more so when Sark murmured against his lips, "Fuck me, Adam. Please."  
  
* * *  
  
Sark was the one to smirk then, as Adam's hips jerked. He felt like he was burning, stretched and open. He could feel his cock, hard and jutting against Adam's thigh, aching to be touched again, even as Adam's fingers stirred a different, deeper ache inside him. The words were a concession, but at this point, who had control, who had the power, was immaterial. He could feel the slickness of Adam's cock against him, knew the immortal had to be aching as much as he was, and that was good enough.   
  
He moaned as Adam's fingers slid out of him, as he pulled back. There was a momentary emptiness, a break in the consciousness of his own skin as where there had been pressure there was only air. He heard the bottle open again, his eyes flicking down to watch as Adam slicked himself. His teeth caught his lower lip as he felt his own cock respond, twitching a bit, and he felt as much as saw Adam's smile above him. Then it was skin to skin again, Adam settling between his legs, one hand lifting Sark's hips into position. He felt his rounded tip, slick with the lube and pre-cum, pressing against him, a threat and a promise both, and his stomach clenched in response to the suggestion of this new invasion. His eyes trailed down to watch where their bodies met, and a soft cry broke from his lips as Adam slowly breached him, his head sliding past Sark's still tight muscle. The copper tang of blood hit his tongue and he knew that it was from his lip, but he didn't feel even the sting. Adam paused, and Sark whimpered, eyes flying up to meet Adam's.  
  
A smirk curved Adam's lips, and he held Sark's eyes as if daring him to look away as slowly he pushed inside of him. Holding his breath, unable to remember to let it out and take another in, Sark slowly lifted his hips more, meeting that challenge as he pressed himself up to meet Adam's slow thrust.  
  
* * *  
  
Adam should have known the boy wouldn't just let himself be taken, should have known he'd meet him, have to exert that, prove it was his need, too. The reality of it made him grin though. When their hips met, and he was buried in him as deep as he could be, Adam shifted again, eliciting a muffled groan from Sark as he leaned down to brace one hand on the arm of the sofa by the boy's head, his fingers curling against he red chenille, nails scraping lightly over he material. The other hand moved to Sark's hip, holding him up, flush against Adam, his thighs pressing into the skin of Adam's waist. Lowering his head he kissed him, slowly and thoroughly, as he had at the first, his tongue exploring each crevice of Sark's mouth as he stayed completely still inside of him. He could feel his pulse pounding in his shaft so hard he was sure Sark could feel it as well. He longed to move, to slide out of him and thrust back in with enough force to make him cry out for purchase, but he forced himself to stay where he was.   
  
Sark's breaths came harsh through the kiss, moans interspersed with each sweep of his tongue over Adam's. His whimpers escaped on panting breaths, but Adam could feel him struggling to hold their position, tight together, merged from two into one, an odd pair of twins joined in a new fashion, fused for the moment ultimately together. Sark's fingers scrabbled over his skin, the scratch of his nails little pinpricks of pain on the edges of Adam's consciousness, demanding, needing, but not surrendering. In the end, Adam gave in, moving first. His hand released Sark's hip, his body easing out of him until he was nearly free. He kissed him harder as his fingers curled back around the boy's shaft and he pressed back into him in one smooth thrust, as his hand ran up his length.  
  
* * *  
  
Toys or not, Sark had never felt quite so filled. Adam pulsed inside him, warm and thick and alive in a way that was different than ever before. When he retreated Sark whimpered, softly pleading, and when he eased back into him, Sark moaned, low and almost feral. Adam's hand on his cock was almost secondary to the burning of their joining, but when the immortal set up a slow rhythm and matched the thrust of his hips to the slide of his hand, Sark felt himself slipping away from any rational, conscious thought into a sea of sensation that threatened to overwhelm him.   
  
Pleasure pricked along the surface of his skin and coiled at the base of his cock. The floor under his foot was slick now, and it no longer felt cool as he used it for leverage, calf straining, arch extended, all of him pressing upward to meet Adam, to impale himself on him. He heard himself begging for more in myriad languages as his brain cycled through them, unable to stay in one for long enough to form a whole sentence. He knew Adam knew fewer, only learning those he needed to know, but he seemed to follow the general idea Sark was working to get across, picking up the pace and thrusting into him harder and faster. Every time he brushed deep inside, Sark felt the world darken a bit more around the edges with the sparks of pleasure almost seeming visual behind his eyes. Adam pulled back from the kiss and Sark looked at him, wondering if that same expression of heated lust was imprinting itself on his features, if his pupils were that dilated, making his eyes look almost black rather than blue. He traced his fingers over Adam's features, the similarity no longer creepy when they were this joined, moving in concert. Adam's lips parted, his head turning to lightly suck on one of Sark's fingers and the third sensation made him close his eyes again as another flash of heat ran over him. His toes curled against the wood, his other leg pulling up, pressing against the chenille of the sofa, into the cushions that made up it's back and down hard into the seat as he lifted himself up hard, demanding. The fabric on one side contrasted with the slick heat of Adam against his inner thigh, their skin almost chafing where they slid against each other, bodies separating then joining again. Adam's lips brushed his again, and he moaned against them, nipping lightly against his lower lip, sucking at it almost desperately.  
  
* * *  
  
Each sound, each word, each eager press of of Sark's body made Adam feel more light headed as his blood redistributed itself. He could smell the sweat on their skin, the sharp bite of it that contrasting with the musky scent of the fluids that had leaked from them both. The feeling of Sark's teeth against his lower lip pulled a moan out of him, stuttering almost as his breath caught, then released. His hips pressed harder again, thrusting deep into the warm cavity of Sark's body. Pulling free from the kiss, lips brushing along Sark's jaw, his tongue flicking out to taste the salt on his skin, the slight roughened feel making him shiver. His teeth nipped at the skin underneath, and then his head dropped to rest against the sofa arm next to Sark's as he let his control slip and pounded into him. His fingers tightened around the boy's cock, sliding up and down faster, staying in time with his thrusts as he felt pressure coiling at the base of his shaft and knew his climax was near.  
  
* * *  
  
His teeth bit down on his lip again, still not feeling the pain of it, caught between the fullness of Adam's cock inside of him, and the slickness of Adam's fingers brushing over him, faster and faster. Breathing was nearly impossible, his lungs on fire and feeling like they weren't getting enough oxygen. Digging his nails in to Adam's back he kept him close, legs working hard to match Adam's pace, raising him up off of the sofa, then sinking back into it, before lifting again. He couldn't quite keep up, his legs starting to shake with the exertion of lifting, and he felt his fingers slip on Adam's damp skin, finally letting them settle on his waist, clutching and releasing in time with the thrusts as the harsh moans stuck in his throat, tight enough there that they couldn't quite get out. His balls tightened, and he finally managed to get sound out, voice rough with the warning, "Adam...please...god, I'm going to come..."  
  
* * *  
  
Adam almost tumbled over the edge into his own climax at the words, his rhythm faltering. He pulled back, arm trembling with the effort of pressing against the sofa and supporting him. His whole body seemed to shudder as he forced himself to hold on, to hang on to a shred of anything that kept him on this edge of orgasm, wanting to watch Sark, see him. He leaned down to brush his lips over his ear.   
  
"Come for me, Julian..." he murmured before lifting his head again, eyes sweeping over the boy's face.  
  
* * *  
  
The soft order shattered what was left of his restraint. Pleasure flushed his skin, creeping up from his chest to his cheeks, then rolled back down through him, coiling in his core, tight and hard, like the seed from which they said the universe sprang, all this energy wrapping around and around itself tighter and tighter until he wanted to scream with the tension. And then it exploded, pleasure flashing out along every nerve in his body, stinging his skin, his body tensing, his legs shuddering a bit as it washed over him, a cry ripping out of his throat.  
  
* * *  
  
He was breathtakingly beautiful, and for once, Adam wasn't thinking of the resemblance between them, but merely the flush on the skin of the boy's face, the way he held nothing back, teeth tight on his lip, then mouth opening for the cry that rolled over them both. Ecstasy was clear over his features, and nearly took Adam's attention from the warmth that spilled over his hand, splattered between them, the cock in his hand pulsing with the force of the boy's release. Watching it, he thrust again, though he hardly needed it to send him flying off the precipice of pleasure delayed. He spilled into Sark, body shaking against his and he had to close his eyes as it shook through him, no matter how hard he tried to watch, to hold the boy's eyes. It spiraled through him, flashes of pleasure sparking, as his body tightened, then relaxed as his whole body felt limp, wrung out, and he let the tremble in his arms finally give out, sinking down onto him.  
  
* * *  
  
An hour before, two at most, Sark would have thought that Adam's weight would be smothering, something to push away from. Instead he found himself welcoming it, arms sliding around him to hold him closer, feeling the shivers that ran over his skin that matched the ones trembling deep inside of him still, making their way to the surface to meet Adam's. His arms tightened, then, and he felt Adam shift to press closer, his hand letting go of Sark's cock, sliding from between them so they were flush, skin to skin. Eyes drifting closed again, he sighed softly, feeling the warmth that flowed through him, a deep and sated feeling making his limbs feel heavy. He felt the brush of Adam's lips against his neck, soft and light, and found himself smiling just a touch.  
  
"Well, that wasn't so bad..."  
  
* * *  
  
Adam snorted, a laugh sliding through him, making him shake a bit against Sark's warm body.   
  
"I'm glad to hear I wasn't a disappointment," he murmured against the boy's neck, tongue darting out to lick up the line of his throat before lifting his head and smirking a bit. "After all the months of build up, I think I would have been crushed."  
  
* * *  
  
Sark felt his lips tug into an answering smirk, head tilting as he met Adam's eyes. "You would have survived." He shifted, just a bit, fingers drifting up Adam's back and into his hair before teasing down his jaw. "I do hope after all your waiting I was worth it." The look on his face didn't show any doubt that he had been.  
  
* * *  
  
"Oh, I think that would be a safe assumption," Adam murmured, leaning down to brush a kiss over Sark's lips. He was pleased when the boy kissed him back, his fingers still lingering, warm against Adam's skin. He deepened the kiss a little, tongue teasing over the wound on Sark's lower lip, sucking at it, tasting a touch of copper on his tongue.  
  
* * *  
  
In the aftermath, his body slowly easing back down to a normal state, despite the feel of Adam against him, in him, Sark could feel the throb in his lip, a small sharp ache blossoming there. Another, duller ache throbbed on the side of the neck, and a spot at the join of his shoulder stung. He kissed Adam harder for a moment, then a bit more gently before easing back, head tilting to the side. "How bad is the damage?" He watched Adam's eyes flicker over him out of the corner of his eyes, saw the arrested expression that settled on his face as he reached out to trace fingers down Sark's throat.  
  
* * *  
  
It was beautiful, those two clear marks darkening, marring his skin, taking away from the absolute perfection and somehow making it moreso. He smiled slowly, then ducked his head to brush as soft kiss over each new mark. "It's exquisite," he murmured against Sark's skin, feeling his stomach flip inside him.  
  
* * *  
  
Sark smirked a bit and shook his head. He could understand, loving the sight of his marks on lovers' skin, and part of him was forced to wonder what it would be like to never bear those marks of passion on your own skin, never look in the mirror the next morning and trace where your lover had been. Still, he arched his eyebrow in disbelief at the other man and was rewarded with a chuckle that he could feel through him and down to where they were joined. It seemed to remind Adam, too, and he shifted, moving a bit to pull out of him. Sark felt a bit of a loss at the connection's end, breath catching. His hips ached, though, and he concentrated on that, shifting, pulling his leg back up to the couch, eyebrows going up again as Adam shifted to his side, behind him, one arm sliding around Sark's waist until they were spooned close together, bodies still pressed close. Part of him tensed at the continued intimacy, even as he felt himself relax back against Adam's chest. Still, he shook his head, reaching one arm to the end table to grab his forgotten glass of wine and take a long sip before he settled back down, pillowing his head on his arm, and letting Adam hold him close.  
  
The immortal brushed a kiss over his shoulder. "Stay tonight?"  
  
Sark sighed slightly, closing his eyes and trying to remember all his arguments against this, chief of which was that he wasn't interested. His body snuggled back into the immortal as if in protest of that now obvious lie. "Just tonight," he temporized. "We're not making a habit of this."  
  
Adam gave a happy little hum, snuggling down behind him, reaching to steal his wine glass and take a sip. "Of course not. Now we know, which was the point, after all."  
  
Sark felt another sigh break free, almost inaudible, just shivering out of his lungs. "Yes," he said, voice quiet. "Now we know."


End file.
